A Mind to Murder Read Online Free Page B

Etherege.
    Dalgliesh saw that he was much shorter than his television appearances suggested. His large, high-domed head, with its aureole of white hair soft and fine as a baby’s, looked too weighty for the slight supporting body which seemed to have aged independently, giving him an oddly disintegrated appearance. It was difficult to guess his age but Dalgliesh thought that he must be nearer seventy than sixty-five, the normal retiring age for a consultant. He had the face of an indestructible gnome, the cheeks mottled with high colour so that they looked painted, the eyebrows springing above eyes of a piercing blue. Dalgliesh felt that those eyes and the soft,persuasive voice were not the least of the medical director’s professional assets.
    In contrast, Dr. James Baguley was six feet tall, nearly as tall as Dalgliesh, and the immediate impression he gave was of intense weariness. He was wearing a long white coat which hung loosely from his bowed shoulders. Although he was much the younger man, he had none of the medical director’s vitality. His hair was straight and turning iron-grey. From time to time he swept it out of his eyes with long, nicotine-stained fingers. His was a handsome, bony face but the skin and eyes were dulled as if with permanent tiredness.
    The medical director said: “You will, of course, want to see the body straight away. I’ll ask Peter Nagle, our second porter, to come down with us if you’ve no objection. His chisel was one of the weapons used—not that he could help that, poor fellow—and no doubt you will want to ask him questions.”
    “I shall want to question everyone here in due course,” replied Dalgliesh.
    It was apparent that the medical director had taken charge. Dr. Baguley, who had not yet spoken, seemed glad to accept that position. Lauder had apparently decided to adopt a watching brief. As they moved towards the basement stairs at the back of the hall, he caught Dalgliesh’s eye. The momentary glance was hard to analyse, but Dalgliesh thought he detected an amused gleam and a certain wry detachment.
    They stood in silence as Dalgliesh knelt by the body. He did not touch it except to part the cardigan and blouse, both of which were unbuttoned, and expose the handle of the chisel. It had been driven in up to the hilt. There was very little bruising of the tissues and no blood. The woman’s vest had been rolled up above her breasts to expose the flesh for that vicious, calculated thrust. Such deliberation suggested that the killerhad a confident knowledge of anatomy. There were easier ways of killing than to pierce the heart with one thrust. But for those with the knowledge and the strength, there were few ways so sure.
    He got to his feet and turned to Peter Nagle. “Is that your chisel?”
    “Apparently. It looks like it and mine isn’t in the box.” Despite the omission of the usual “sir,” the voice, educated and unemphatic, held no trace of insolence or resentment.
    Dalgliesh asked: “Any idea how it got here?”
    “None at all. But I’d hardly be likely to say if I had, would I?”
    The medical director gave Nagle a quick frown of warning or admonition and placed his hand briefly on the porter’s shoulder. Without consulting Dalgliesh he said gently: “That will be all for the present, Nagle. Just wait outside, will you?”
    Dalgliesh made no demur as the porter quietly detached himself from the group and left without another word.
    “Poor boy! The use of his chisel has naturally shocked him. It looks unpleasantly like an attempt to implicate him. But you will find, Superintendent, that Nagle is one of the few members of the staff with a complete alibi for the presumed time of death.” Dalgliesh did not point out that this was, in itself, highly suspicious.
    “Did you make any estimate of the time of death?” he asked.
    Dr. Etherege replied: “I thought that it must have been very recent. That is Dr. Baguley’s view too. The clinic is very warm